


The Prince and The Wanderer

by IrisCarlyle



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: AU, M/M, Mavin, mythical land!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisCarlyle/pseuds/IrisCarlyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mavin AU. In the land of the forest, the faun prince Nivag has never experienced anything big in his life. But when a creature that shouldn't even be anywhere close to the forest wants to take him away on a grand adventure, the prince can't help but to say yes.<br/>There is smut, but I try to limit it in the writing to max three paragraphs per chapter. Also it isn't insanely detailed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince and The Wanderer

**Author's Note:**

> Okay things to note. No main characters will be involved (I mean actual people in AH or RT) in this work. There might be mentions, or scenes, but them actually playing a main part in the story does not occur. Also, name change. Nivag is Gavin (Gavin backwards is Nivag) and Michael is Chael. (Shortened name) I did this to keep with the mythical land feel of it all. Also, last thing, the names and places are confusing. You don't need to remember everything, it isn't important. So; enjoy this story I have written, comment, like, bookmark whatever. Thanks for reading!!
> 
> PS - Due to long chapters expect waits anywhere from a few days to two weeks when I update.

The woods were alive with revelry. Lights left by fairies were casting down from the sky into the ground like caged stars. Behind the vale of shadows vampire eyes twinkled, a lone werewolf howled up at the sky and jogged down the main focal point, it’s paws scraping into the earth. In every stream of the forest naiads rose their heads from the water, even the ones who guarded the tunnels and caverns at the bottom of the lake joined in the gathering.   
Every single being in the forest - and the lands beyond - flocked to the highest hill. A succubus, who wore nothing but a see-through robe with jewels cascading down her collarbone walked into the torchlight. Gifts from weak mortal kings from all across the land. A succubus was never weighed by her seduction or her charm, she was weighed by how many gifts clogged her throat and fingers.  
Through the forest and towards the hill an oversized jaybird flew, it’s wings drumming through the air with a faint buzz. Loudly it cawed and all the creatures below looked up at it with a faintly annoyed expression. But the bird continued, dancing through the branches that were thick with summer and enlightenment.   
“Grisenbren,” a name echoed from a tower at the top of the hill. There was a call from the bird as it swooped upwards in an arch, the tips of it’s wings the color of starlight. “Grisenbren how many are here this time?”  
Grisenbren landed on the creature’s shoulders, head snuggling into the neck. Elf, it’s thought echoing in the mind of the creature. Every being from as far as the Highlands are here, even the merpeople from the Western Sea and Murqock Bay have arrived. I have never before in my life seen so many attendants.   
The Elf’s face turned into a grin. “And there is no trouble? No uninvited guests aiming for my quarters?”  
Grisenbren’s wings flapped with a sureness, pounding but not flying. For a moment he was silent, staring up at the night sky. Then he blinked, if by demons then no, they are not here. I only felt their presence when I passed the Gates of Agryn and visited the Dark Lands. Not a single one of them have set foot in your Kingdom, sire.  
“Thank you,” the Elf hummed, drumming his elongated fingers down the vine railing. He looked down upon his castle, watching as all the beings flocked in and around.   
What do you see, sire? Grisenbren asked, noticing how his master was concentrating on something below.  
“Nothing, really.” The Elf’s thoughts began to wonder, for he was looking at something very hard. “Evewig the Faun has brought his son.”   
Grisenbren too focused down below, with the news. He cawed loudly, wings ruffling, barely perching himself on his master’s shoulders. The heir of Huberdan did not come last year, or the year before. And he comes now? Would you like for me to look into this, Olïseua?  
Olïseua nodded, turning his head to focus on the arrival of the Fairy Court. When the queen passed and overtook past the tower, he nodded in respect. Only two creatures rivaled the elves in power and grace: the fairies and the angels. Once the queen passed, he focused on Grisenbren. “Yes. And come back as soon as you find out anything. The Gathering starts when the moon is at it’s peak in the sky, be back before then my friend. Go!” He called, and the creature flung itself from his shoulders. Olïseua watched the stars and frowned, why are they not here? He thought bitterly. Even the demons are not trying to get into my halls. And then he turned away, down the stairs and out of sight.  
***

The elves were the kings and queens of the forest. Their castle rising out of the Morlstone, an ancestral place where magic seeped into the terrestrial lands. From the stone rose the marble towers that were just a tone shy of being white from the light tan. The castle had one large arch of an entry, lacing in captured fairy-light that strung from the tops on great swoops. Inside the castle, gardens echoed all around, rooms being carved out of trees and boulders. Onwards and deeper in were tall towers that showed nearly all of the forest, halls that held magical armory or housed the elves. However, the castle was more of a place of commerce then used for living. Only King Olïseua, his wife Mórism and crown princess Krieomea lived within the walls. Parties and Gatherings were held here, and usually nothing more.  
Above Nivag a jaybird cawed, swooping down and landing on his head. Faun! The thing screeched within his mind and he stepped back in fear.   
Nivag’s father turned to him and laughed, “Grisenbren. The King’s loyal servant.”  
“He’s talking in my head father,” Nivag whined, trying to get a look at the bird. “How can he do that? Birds can’t do that.” For some reason, Nivag was not surprised, but rather in shock.  
“He’s enchanted Nivag,” his father answered before continuing on and towards the gardens. “Elves can do those things. Don’t break anything, or I’m clipping your horns. Don’t want to get laughed at, do we now?”  
“Father,” Nivag sighed, still trying to get a look at the bird. It stopped communicating, instead just sat there. He decided just to ignore it, maybe it would fly away. “Stop treating me like this. I’m a prince, the heir.”   
“You’ll be nothing if you continue with your hopeless banter,” his father bayed whilst heading through the arch. “Be merry, drink until you can’t stand the smell of flowers, have affairs with creatures in the glen. But by the Gods, don’t make an elf or fairy mad.”  
Nivag sighed, shaking his head but the bird did not budge, only making itself more comfortable between his growing horns. “Aren’t Angels supposed to be here too, father? Those beings that come from the aether?”   
His father looked back at him then, a serious look on his face. It was as if something pained him, “angels haven’t come since you were a mere fawn in the glen. Those were years ago, my child. The fairies and elves have suspected them to be in a war with the demons. Go now, I’m going to the court to meet with the other kings and queens of the forest. Wait for me here when the moon touches the Xelle Star. Farewell,” and Evewig was gone.   
And Nivag was alone. He wasn’t really alone, a shapeshifter who took the form of a gleaming panther sulked on by and into the gardens. The faun grinned to himself before looking up, “really do you have anything better to do?”  
You need better grooming. The enchanted bird stated boredly, grooming his feathers. Your hair is a prime located for finch nests. Fauns.   
Nivag grimaced at the bird, bringing up his hands to try to touch it. It squawked, trying to nip his fingers. The faun gave up and growled, “If you didn’t like my hair you wouldn’t be nesting in it you stupid bird.”  
I am royalty. Call me stupid again and I’m pulling out your hair. I might go as far as to bite your horns down to the nubs. There was malice in his tone as he continued to preen his feathers.   
“Okay.” Nivag said, trying to change the subject. “Be useful. Why aren’t the angels here? Aren’t they supposed to be here?”  
Grisenbren went stiff. That, young faun, is classified information.   
“And I’m the heir of Huberdan, the prince of the western lands.” Nivag stated, walking aimlessly around. “Where are the creatures of the aether?”  
In a war. I’m saying no more. When Grisenbren spoke, he sounded defeated. Head towards the brook, he added, go downstream to the large moonlit pond. Merpeople are gathering there, I think for a forest creature the idea of sea-creatures appeals, yes?  
Nivag headed towards where he was told. Under his breath he muttered, “so demons do exist.” Grisenbren’s mind then latched onto him.   
Of course they exist! Along with his rising voice, his wings flapped. The Damned Ones, Creatures of the Nether, Wanderers of the Dark Lands, Children of Angels. Whatever you call them, know them as, they exist. Gods you are young, young and foolish as not to be educated in the past.   
“Then teach me,” Nivag whined as he stomped his hooves into the ground. He tried desperately to look at the bird. A flash of silver tipped wing, the crest of a head, and there was nothing more to the fey creature. “I know about the Six Kings, the Mortal Throne, The Distant Lands and the Building of Morlstone. Isn’t that everything important in our world?”  
No… the bird whispered. There was so many things in our past. I could teach you, I might. But only when you become king. Until then, I have my own king to serve. Not a thick-skulled child prince with the weirdest sounding throat in the history of creation. That’s what everything got out of fauns: their weird accents and customs. Go the pond, Heir of Huberdan. We will talk, but cease this converse about demons. I do not need to grow any older, I do not need this aching thought of pasts. Not now.   
“How old even are you?” Nivag asked with an annoyed sigh.   
Nearly as old as the Elven King. I’m nearing my 225th year. If birds could purr, then Grisenbren would be a roaring thing of delight. That is a story in itself, how a simple jaybird became the King of the Forest’s most trusted advisory and spy.  
“They talk about you,” Nivag cooned, walking through a grove of blossoming maples, his fingers tracing down the knots in the wood, getting clogged in sap and tiny imperfections of the wood. “Never in my life did I imagine I’d see you, or even talk to you.” There was a look of confusion across Nivag’s face, “why are you here, talking to me anyway?”  
Olïseua made me socialize, the bird muttered mildly, lying. You were missed, Heir of Huberdan for some time. Why weren’t you at the Gathering for those two years?  
Nivag stiffened, “I-I,” he began to mutter, “I slept with some monk that was supposed to be celibate. But he was just so beautiful.”   
Grisenbren almost laughed, and he would’ve, for the fact that the reason the Heir of Huberdan was banned for two years from festivities was not because there was problems in their kingdom, but because he couldn’t keep it in his pants for some pretty-boy religious figure.   
“What?!” Nivag asked, face turning red. The bird’s energy was silent for too long. “I know,” he muttered, embarrassed, “it’s stupid.” They were nearing the pond, light left by naiad emotions making the water glow faintly.   
No. No, you are young. I was just curious, young Heir. I wouldn’t brag about that though. Are you betrothed yet? Asked the bird, standing up on it’s legs, perching on one of Navig’s horns.   
The faun nodded, I am, I don’t even know her name.   
However, Grisenbren seemed more eager to fly onto one of the branches, reliving Navig of his weight. We are here young Heir, follow me.   
“Yes.” And then Grisenbren was flying while Navig was running swiftly after him. Being part deer from his waist down, he was easily one of the quickest creatures in the forest. Within moments, after cutting through some huckleberry and raspberry plants, they were on the edge of a shallow yet wide pool.   
It was like starlight flooded into the water. Millions of flickering balls of light cascaded in every inch of the water, swirling in a calamity of motion. There was a thick sea-breeze in the air, followed by the freshness of the brooks and rivers that clouded the forest. Within the water were tails and webbed legs, bare naked women sitting on rocks grooming their hair with sea shell combs and brushes. But beside the smells and sights, something else drew Navig in deeper. It was the sound of laughter.   
Once Navig crashed through, all the tails ceased their motions, all the laughter paused to stare at him. A beautiful woman who wore only a see-through silken scarf around her bust frowned ever faintly. Her hair looked like deep blue starlight, her eyes the color of seaweed. She was the first one to speak, “faun. A faun enters.”  
“Who invited you?” Asked a man with a sneer. He had no tail, instead was a naiad with webbed fingers, feet and sharp dagger-like teeth.  
An abrupt amount of laughter echoed through the pond, “let him be. When did merpeople ever come to the Elven Lands?” From where the laughter came was a red haired mermaid, white eyes with no pupil or iris. Her tail looked like emeralds, and she had nothing to hide herself.   
“Storom,” said the first girl with the green eyes, “look at what he brings.” She pointed towards Grisenbren, “the Enchanted One.”  
Grisenbren took his cue to bow, and then he spoke. To all, not just to the singular mind of Nivag. Greetings merflock, Naiads, Children of Water. I hope you can excuse this, I thought we had came into the Cove of Lysl, not into The Entrance to Botlomir’s Cavern. Please, he swooped from his branch and dropped something into the male’s hands, accept this token from Olïseua in pardon for my mistake.   
Nivag didn’t get a good look at it, but from the sounds the merpeople and Naiads were making, it was worth their mishap. “Yes,” muttered the male contently. “It is no longer of heed,” he dipped his head below the water, his eyes shimmering a bright shade of blue-silver, “you are welcome here. You and your faun.”  
Storom motioned to the mermaid and the Naiad, both of whom were the only ones left. After the gift bringing the other’s all disappeared into caves. ”I am Storom the White, this is Alierxirn,” she motioned towards the Naiad, “the Valant. And Shavae the Lustful.” She winked at the faun.  
Before Nivag could even speak Alierxirn’s voice echoed, “tell us a story of the forest faun. I have never spoken to the Cousins of Deer.”  
“Alierxirn,” cooed Shavae in reprimand, “they are not titled as such. Children of Posil, the forest God for my tribe along the Bay’s Edge. You should be ashamed.”  
The Children of Water - all three of them - began to bicker amongst themselves. And then Grisenbren intervened, enough. He snapped in annoyance, they are known as only two things: Fauns and Sunborne Creatures. You are speaking to the Heir of Huberdan, Prince of the West. And me, the Enchanted One. I will deliver one story and then the moon will be at it’s apex, so we shall return to the castle.   
Everyone seemed to agree on these terms, so they gathered around the large bird with the silver wings and golden eyes. Nivag hadn’t looked at him well before, but he saw now what was crafted. Large, at least two hand-strokes in length and one hand high. His eyes were golden with black specks within them, his wings silver tipped and breast the color of snow. Everything else was a mixture of sapphire and lapis lazuli in shade. Even his legs were gorgeous; pumped and rounded in a shade slightly yellower than gold, claws like hooked obsidian.   
Before the Elves claimed the forest, the Angels lived within them. There was one, named Xelan, who founded the Morlstone. It was where their ancestors seeped into the land from the aether. Long forgotten after countless years living in the terrestrial kingdom, for a time even Angels were mortal. But then came Xelan, noble in breed and color but burdened with a secret disability. He could not fly, his wings were as broken as a lame dove, even moving them hurt him. What was an Angel who could not feel the wind? Who could not, for the life of him, perform the arian mating tradition in the sky and govern himself a maiden or children. He was damned.  
But this broken creature found the Morlstone. Which could return his beauty and return his grace. But the Morlstone is something that bears a great burden. It is not perfect in any possible way, and up until the time of the elves crossing through it resulted in taking something too. For the early Angels it took their memories of it’s existence, so they were not given the right of immortality. Xelan however, was intelligent, and he saw it’s darkness. He, instead of passing through it, scarred the land outside of the forest for something which could reverse the power of the Morlstone. Xelan found the Elves buried knee deep within their own blood. The first Elves; The Dark Elves, who lived so long in the Dark Lands they became tormented and damned. Here, where the noble breed begins, was the Gates of Agryn and the Dark Lands. Something like the Morlstone, but unopened. He passed through the invisible gate, hoping and praying that he would not turn out changed.  
But Xelan did come out changed. His wings were fixed but instead of being pure, he was the first Demon. He passed back through the Gates of Agryn, from his Hell to the terrestrial kingdoms once more. His blood was not changed yet - it was a slow change back then - but within time he knew he would be evil. So he touched one of the Elves with what was once his broken wing, and the creature knew what to do.   
He led the Dark Elves to the forest, to build the castle atop the Morlstone. This change made the Morlstone safe, no bad to go with it. As however it made the Gates of Agryn forever changed, forever damned. Before the Elves - now having passed through the Morlstone they lost their tainted minds - could drag Xelan through the Morlstone to turn him back to good he became consumed with his darkness. And forevermore he was the first Demon. The creature who turned everything from their mortality into what they once were. He saved everyone, while losing himself.   
Xelan still lives in the Nether, chasing the Dark Lands and looking for something. He is seen sometimes, his wings broken but flying, his teeth black and hungry. Too far gone to save anyone now, he lives like a banshee waiting to strike.  
When Grisenbren stopped speaking there was silence. Nivag had heard all of it; the Story of Origin as many called it. The faun had heard it many times before, of Xelan and how he brought the elves into what they were today. But never before did he know that the Angel was also the first demon, corrupted by the gates far away from the forest edge. It was unknown to him and probably most of the forest-dwellers the complete Story of Origin. Even so it was a different story, a different history. The story of how Angels were once mortals like man, and how the Morlstone once had a dark side to it.   
“That is the true tale of Xelan?” Storom asked with a whisper, her tail was sullenly paced against a rock.   
Grisenbren’s blue head nodded, his eye flashing in a blink. Yes. The hero’s tale is a tragic one, but it is ever so. For a moment the bird was silent and Nivag thought his mind had left, but once again he resumed his speaking. Come creatures, the moon is at it’s apex. Be grateful for the tale I have given you. Not many beings are known of the truth. And once again he rested himself between Nivag’s growing horns.  
As they walked through the glen the air was charged in revelry. Creatures flying across the sky in quick dashes, fairy light sparkling down the trees in great swoops of contemptment. But Nivag and his companion were silent as he walked through the trees, night-vision laden eyes not missing a single thing in his path.   
Your mind wanders, the bird’s voice echoed.  
“I’m excited for the beginning of the Gathering - that’s all.”   
The king will need me. So young Nivag, once we get back to the castle, I will no longer be your nightly companion. It was a pleasure getting to know you though, young prince.   
Nivag’s head dipped in respect, “thank you Grisenbren. It was a pleasure to meet you, too. Maybe our paths will cross again in the future.”  
Why I am sure they will. And then he was silent.  
Within minutes that were at the entrance of the gardens, Evewig pacing around the grand arch laced in fairy light. Grisenbren wished his farewell as he launched himself upwards and into the sky. There was an ache within Nivag at his departure, but now he could officially gather with the other creatures of the forest and beyond.  
“My son,” his father said as soon as he saw him. “Where did you wander off to? Did that bird take you around?” Evewig looked slightly annoyed and preoccupied.   
“He took me to the pond,” Nivag bayed wistfully. “I met a mermaid and a rather handsome looking naiad.”  
“Just don’t let me catch you shagging anyone,” Evewig muttered as he turned towards an oak tree. “You are not married yet, so I have no opposition to you getting it on but if you I have to see your penis up another butt -”   
“Father!!”  
“Oh look at the Raynavaez roses...” His father whispered with eager content, changing the subject and mooning over the flowers. “They are splendid. The elves do know how to grow things, of course they have magic on their hands. We don’t cheat.”  
“You’re such an old goat.” Nivag hissed in annoyance.   
“And you’re a bloody whore.” Before Nivag could flash a retort at his father, the trumpets rung in their ears. “Come on,” Evewig muttered, “we must gather in the main garden. You are to stand at my side as the Prince of the West.”   
Now Nivag was dumbstruck. He was to stand in waiting while Olïseua sung the song of the forest and welcomed the festivities. Never before had he been granted such a high honor, even if moments before he had been bickering with his father about his sexual habits.   
Nivag followed Evewig slowly, savoring this feeling of existing in these times. With the night air cool against his back, the hot breaths of invisible creatures and snoring sounds of already drunken beings echoing all around him in the light of the midnight summer. They walked, hooves clicking against stone and mouths opening to taste the air that was as warm and welcoming as mead. It was magic brought from the elves; changing the normal forest into beautiful revelry. And Nivag loved it.  
“When The Elven Kings say the fauns, you are to nod cortley.” His father instructed, waking him from his dreams of knights and maidens in distant lands. “Understand? You only speak if you are spoken to and for the love of you Grandfaun Holberrin, do not trip or even think of falling.”   
Nivag nodded slowly, hearing the warning in his father’s tone. The pride of his race was towering on his shoulders. But more importantly, it was the pride of his father that was on the line. His son was already a whore, but a royal lunatic and Evewig would never be the same. No creature could ever look at him with respect of Nivag did not live up to his expectations. “I will behave father. And then I will get very drunk, and I expect you to join me. There are some beautiful nymphs I think you’d enjoy, a gorgeous male that looks ripe as a cherry.”   
Evewig laughed at that, holding his son’s shoulder in a loving embrace. “Mating with that of my own is something the young do. When you get to be my age you will only have affairs with your wife.”  
Nivag frowned, “father. I like males more than females, you know this.” They were waiting for the court to begin.   
His father nodded. “I noticed. But with males you may have no children, which is why you are to marry Agelema when you are older and wiser. Most woodland creatures are a clean split down in the middle in their preference. You just happen to lean very much towards that of your own. It does not dispute the fact that you will marry Agelema. Do you like females at all son?” Evewig was being very patient and kind, for he could tell his son was struggling.   
Nivag nodded slowly. “A little. They were fine, but they are not males.”   
Evewig’s mind seemed to settle on something, and he swirled his beard with his fingertips. “Very well. From now until your marriage you may shag as many horned-beasties that you so desire. But once you marry Agelema, you may only engage in heated revelry when she so wants to have sex with more than just you.”   
Nivag’s heart was heavy but he nodded slowly, sadness etching down his features. “I understand father.”  
The King grinned down at his son. “When I was your age I knew a satyr, the finest ass in all the forest. His name was Kahnol and I shagged him every day for a fortnight until we were sweating from our our eyes and our bodies were deflated from over production. That was the best two weeks of my life, other than the month of mating with your mother. Now, go shag every creature in the forest. But if I see your nether-snake up an ass, in a mouth or even erect I am cutting it off.” And then Evewig laughed.   
Moments later, before Nivag could respond, the trumpets blared once more and everything went silent. Not even a cricket croaked into the darkness. All the royalties of the forest were strung up in a row beside a path made of crimson-colored jade, fairy lights swooping over it hung by magic in the air. All the creatures sat in trees or at the base of a hill watching the scene. Everything was in their true forms; werewolves baring the fur and wolves bodies, vampire fangs hanging out of their pale heads, even fairies’ wings were lightly humming above the tree tops in watching.   
After the drum of the trumpets, there was silence. Piercing silence that permeated through the entire forest. For moments it seemed like Olïseua would not arrive. Momentarily Nivag looked up at the sky, seeing the moon directly above a dias at the base of the jade-path. Once again he looked down, only to see Olïseua standing like a ghost at the base of the castle. He stood for a moment, serious-eyed and watching all of his disciples. Some evil thing plagued him, an uncomfortable weight as he watched all the creatures. It was almost as if something was missing, and that made the king deeply distraught. Then the pain vanished from his face in one quick sigh, if Nivag hadn’t been so close he would not have seen the pain at all, and within a second it was completely gone. He made his way towards the dais.  
Grisenbren was hunched on his master’s shoulder; watching everything with his golden eyes. He looked once upon Nivag and nodded the sapphire head before staring down the hill to the commoners. As Olïseua walked he took everything in, searching the gazes and minds that befell him on this night of the Gathering. It would be another year until the celebration, another year for everything to grow and change, so he took it in at this moment before the thoughts of the immortal beings could escape him.   
“Creatures of the Forest and Beyond,” the king spoke, his lyrical voice sounding like a bird over the hill and onwards. “You are gathered here tonight - and for the nights to follow - for the Gathering. The special time of year where the sun and moon touch the earth at the exact same angle for half a fortnight. It is a time when magic enters the land at it’s strongest point, a grand time to gather and tell stories, commercing as One.” He was silent for a moment, his white hair looking like diamonds as the moon touched it. Then he looked onto the line of royals, motioning to them. “King Averak of the Hamadryad’s. Ohymeria, Queen of the Nymphs. Queen Yemear and her son Brosidliran of the Fairy Kingdom. King Waslegrah and his daughter Emme of the Naids. Priest Forinadr of the Satyr. And lastly, King Evewig and his son Nivag of the Fauns.” All the creatures at the hill howled or bellowed once their royals were mentioned. Olïseua then looked to the creatures from outside the land, where their royals stood on pedestals. “King Jaq of the Vampires, Queen Lindlay of the Merflock, King Goefe and Queen Gifyron of the Werewolves, King Ryn of the Beasts and Sir Raynav of the Nymphs Beyond.” Once Olïseua had finished the naming his eyes fell to the dias.  
King Olïseua was a tall man, towering at least six feet into the air on thin dark legs that resembled branches. He was the color of the oak trees that he lived in. A thin, angular face was owned by him; high cheekbones, thin lips, straight protruding nose. His eyes were dark brown with thin white eyebrows that completely went against the color of his skin. For a brown creature the elf should have brown, dark hair. But that wasn’t so, it was as white as starlight. All elves were dark in skin - all except the ones in the Northern Highlands, of whom were as pale as death - and most held true to dark hair. Royalty was of a difference. The King’s wife had hair the color of midnight, peasant-born but beautiful. Their daughter was a rare occurrence, being a mutt, her hair was the color of straw. But that was all there was to the family on top of the highest hill, there was nothing more that made them better than anyone else. Except their elven grace and magical capabilities.   
Olïseua muttered something under his breath and the dias caught alight in fire. Grisenbren cawed loudly at it, his eyes gleaming. The flames curled around the dias, though proving no smoke and no smell. In Olïseua’s hands was a silver bow that seemed to be made from a piece of the Morlstone. It was an ancient artifact that was only used in ceremonies Nivag noted, seeing it before on murals. The arrow that accompanied it however, seemed to show no significance in time.   
Olïseua shot the arrow from the bow at the fire upon the dais, and everything turned into a wicked amount of smoke that smelled like rain and forest. “Let the Gathering begin - !” The elf shouted, though interrupted by a booming voice.   
“You start without us?” The voice asked mockingly, but no bitterness held to the words. Everyone gasped, looking around for the source. The look that befell upon Olïseua was proof enough of his shock and fear.  
“I...” The elf gasped, though composing himself. He didn’t even bother to look around. “Ezebiel.” Olïseua said, half-wistfully and half-confused, “show yourself.”   
There was an audible sigh, and then the area between the base of the hill and the top glimmered like oil on water. Within moments several winged creatures - estimating between thirty and forty - stood where the glimmer once. Their wings were white and a light glowed from their temples. The beings were the epitome of perfection. “Hello Olïseua,” said one of the creatures in the center. Everyone looked to him, and he looked fairly sad. Around him were the others angels - alike in figure to man but better. “I am sorry we are late.”  
“You are late by many, many years Ezebiel.” Hissed the Elf, looking at the fair-skinned man with anger and annoyance.   
“But we are here now, aren’t we?” Ezebiel drew out the words in muffled boredom, his perfection not even tainting his negativity.   
The Elf King was glowering, his face twitching and contorting. Rarely did elves show emotion, and when they did, it was like a storm of passion. “Enough.” He said coolly and with a finality, going blank-faced. “We will talk about this in private. Come with me,” the King started to turn away but stopped. “The Gathering has begun.” Was all he said before drifting silently into the shadows of the castle.  
Three Angels went with Ezebiel while the others dispersed into the crowd. Nivag noticed a pretty boy with curly dark red hair, brown eyes and was fairly short. He looked at Nivag, smiled somewhat with bitterness, and then walked away. Nivag grinned, making the Angel is goal. Of course, he thought. I only fuck pretty things. And Angels are the fairest in all the land.  
Now everyone was falling away, despite the previous fall of contention. It seemed as if no one cared that the Angels - Creatures of the Aether, Fair Ones - were back in the Terrestrial Lands. They hadn’t been back in so long, Nivag was deathly curious as to know why. So he followed the pretty Angel with the dark hair.   
He followed him all the way to a grove of darkened cherry blossoms, irises littering their soft floor of petals and moss. The creature’s wings were breasted against him, holding their form hollowly like arms against a body. Nivag thought he was silent in his following, but apparently not quite enough.  
“I can hear you, Faun.” Said the Angel cooley, not even looking back but motioning upwards with his head. He was wearing a pure-white toga and on one of his fingers a deep purple jeweled ring glistened in the low light.   
Nivag stopped walking and cocked his head. “Is that an Angel power then? Amazing hearing?”  
The Angel snorted, chuckling deeply. “I guess so.” His words were unconvincing. “What do you want?”  
“Get you a drink, shag you till you can’t walk, maybe find out why the Angels haven’t been here in so long.” Nivag was honest, grinning at the creature who didn’t even look at him.   
His wings outstretched lightly, hand grabbing onto one of the cherry blossoms and plucking it for closer inspection. “You don’t even know my name,” he said with mild indifference before turning the petal in his fingertips.   
Nivag didn’t seem to want to cave in, so he inquired more. “What is it then, Fair One?”  
“Cute.” And then he was silent for so long, Nivag almost began to think he had begun to ignore him. “Names’ Chael.”  
“Can we shag now?” Nivag asked, grinning a toothy grin. He got his name, now if he could get other things, he’d be a very happy and content Faun.  
Chael looked at him then and Nivag’s heart almost stopped. He was even more beautiful in this dim light - the pale color of his skin being drawn from his body, his brown eyes sparkling against the deep pink background. When he smiled Nivag could feel his breathing slow, and it took all of his effort to puff out a ‘humphhh’ and smile back in return. “I thought you were going to buy me a drink first?” The Angel said, approaching Nivag.   
I’ll buy you a wedding ring what. Nivag thought before turning away and back towards where the castle was. “Follow me, Fair One.” He said with contemptment. “Wait you’re actually going to let me shag you?”  
“Of course.”  
“And then you’ll tell me why the Angels haven’t been here in so long?”  
Chael grinned, looking up at Nivag, his white wings sparkling just like his brown eyes. Little pale humanoid creature that had the power to break Nivag’s neck in less then a second. The beautiful paradox of life. “Now that is a long shot, Faun.”  
***  
After about 8 drinks of mead and Nymphian liquor - which may have been made from only tree roots and huckleberries, but was as strong as a keg of ale - both Chael and Nivag were stumbling through the forest like drunken idiots. Which is exactly what they were.  
“You still gon’ let me shag you righ?” Asked Nivag through his stumbling lips that dripped with mouth liquids and alcohol.   
Chael tripped over a tree root and they both laughed over this minor inconvenience. “Isn’ that why we’re runnining into the forest to escap that old fuck of a fath’ you got?”   
Their words were slurring terribly, but it was nothing to two young men who just wanted to engage in festivities.  
Nivag nodded rapidly, “ye. If he sees me nakedagain he is gon’ chop it off.” He motioned towards his dick before turning to Chael. “Bu you. You can see it as muchhh as you want.” The drunken faun grinned at Chael, pulling him close.  
Chael allowed Nivag to pull him close, letting the faun graze his lips down sloppily from his chin and downwards. “Do whatever you want to do tome.” The Angel said, gasping as Nivag’s hand grazed up his toga. “Whateve’ you want - I am yours Nivgag.”   
Nivag first touched Chael with his hands as he drifted his tongue all along the man’s neck and chest. Within moments the toga was removed and he stood hunched over Chael, smiling down at him. His hands messed with Chael’s member until it was stiff, and then he drifted his tongue down to the erect muscle. Chael gasped, his eyes rolling back and he was unable to contain the moans within him as Nivag’s mouth twisted up and down. His hands went to touch himself, for Chael could not be the only one having all the fun.   
Slowly Nivag moved faster, both with his hands and his mouth, until both their hips began rocking back and forth. Chael’s hand fell on Nivag’s head, pulling him up and looking him in the eye. For a split second the faun thought he wanted to stop, but he instead repositioned himself so his mouth was around Nivag’s member. They were both sucking each other, their mouths moving quicker. In time, Nivag stopped for a moment to announce that he was close to completion, and they both increased their speed until they reached orgasm at the same time. Chael was gasping for air and he rolled away onto his back to fall asleep, his wings spread out flat against the forest floor.  
Nivag watched him fall asleep before closing his own eyes. He could only faintly hear Chael’s breathing as it lulled him to sleep. Their time together had been exotic and enjoyable, but at the same time Nivag was drunk. So the moment he let his head touch the ground, he was in a dead sleep.  
***  
Nivag was the first one to awaken. He felt the muffled effects of a hangover leach into his pores. But one of the blessings of enchanted liquor - which only presented itself at high prices and at the Gathering - it’s haunting effects faded within minutes of waking. You still would want to avoid alcohol for half a day though, because the body needed to detox.   
Chael was still on there on the forest floor, slumped to his side with his wings acting as a blanket. In the bright dawn light he looked peaceful, all except for the piercing purple ring that dazzled to brightly in the light. Nivag was drawn to it, hauncing his body over Chael’s to get a better look. It was one of the most beautiful things the faun had ever seen; a deep endless purple in a silver chasm of polished metal. It was in the middle finger of his right hand and it seemed to suck Nivag in. Something haunted it, either an emotion or an angelic spell, but it was like the ring had its own entity to it.   
Nivag reached for it, careful not to awaken Chael from his slumber. He just had to try it on, put it on him finger and see what how it looked before returning it. It would be a minor inconvenience, and hopefully the sleeping Angel would notice nothing.  
It took effort to pull it free from the base of his finger, and Chael stirred lightly. He pulled harder as to wiggle it free in admiration. Chael stirred even more, a thin membrane of eye opening to look at Nivag. A moment later and it would be off, and Nivag would be able to admire it before it was lost from him by its owner.   
Once he pulled it free Chael’s eyes snapped open in fear. He yelled something at Nivag, but it was lost to the scene then enfolded.  
Chael was no longer Chael. His wings, which were soft and shimmering just lightly, had faded. They were gone, but only to be replaced by a different thing altogether. There was no longer feathery softness, instead a thin black membrane that separated from dark hooked-boned talons. Wings that so closely resembled a bat.  
Not only did this change, but he was no longer perfect. Black feathers - like ravens - clouded every inch of his body, except for his face where they thinned out at the cheeks, chin and bridge of the nose. Nivag didn’t want to look at his face because it was clouded in uttermost fear.   
“What did you fucking do?” He hissed, annoyance dripping down his words. But his brown eyes were a flurry of emotion, like at any moment he could be executed.   
Nivag was silent, holding the ring in his fingers, it’s purple still blazing. A contrast to the blackness. “You’re a...” he could barely form words.  
“Yes?” Chael asked, the dull truth that he was found out burning into his dark everything.   
“You’re a demon.”


End file.
